Ikea and Dyson, A Perfect Storm

About a year ago, on my biannual voyage to Ikea, I discovered these:

you little beauties (mrscarmichael)
you little beauties (mrscarmichael)

Packets and packets were piled in bins beside the checkout where I queued to pay for my toilet brushes, washing up brushes, table mats, napkins, hand towels and wine glasses.

Yes, it was an Ikea controlled purchase but it is fair to say I fell in love a little that day. These colourful snap and clicks are multiplying in my kitchen as I find more and more things I can seal up with them. Sugar, bread, spices, coffee beans, fridge food, freezer food all clicked and accounted for.

action shot (mrscarmichael)
action shot (mrscarmichael)

I give them to friends. I pop them into the luggage of daughters’ various. I enjoy choosing which colour to coordinate with foodage that requires containing. No ‘perfect’ home should be without them.

These clips were my household purchase of 2013.

2014 brought with it a broken dishwasher, a microwave that not only incendiarised a couple of potatoes but spectacularly self-immolated in the process and a vacuum cleaner that stopped sucking up dirt.

So my new Dyson vacuum became the purchase of the moment. Not only handsome it sucked with strength and venom. I almost enjoyed using it.

And then, Dear Readers, its suck lessened, its dust container didn’t fill, its mojo moved on. I was destrait.

This morning I could no longer pretend that I was ridding Casa Carmichael’s floor of any debris. With Mr C in the office and someone arriving to spend the night I have been forced to rid myself of glamourous pretensions and get down and dirty with the hoover.

This has been my last two hours:

not looking quite so fine now are you Sir? (mrscarmichael)
not looking quite so fine now are you Sir? (mrscarmichael)

I took every take apart apart. I blew. I sucked. I forced my eye to the aperture. No improvement.

not so hot without words (mrscarmichael)
not so hot without words (mrscarmichael)

Committed to the repair I hunted for and found the manual. The manual containsΒ no words. For a verbal rather than a non-verbal reasoner this turn of events spelt secondary disaster.

let's try the help desk (mrscarmichael)
let’s try the help desk (mrscarmichael)

I resorted to the good ol’ fashioned telephone and Lauren at Dyson service. We had a long conversation about the lack of suckage, the fact I thought half a christmas tree might be stuck in the pipe and my pride in already having managed to unscrew some screws. The unscrewing in itself had not however, resolved the blockage. I described my attempts to insert a drain unblocker. She suggested I desist with the sewage/limescale descaler and use my fingernails to pull the last little bit of the vacuum apart.

Wooh – these babies? I tried to use my nails and chipped one. I informed Lauren that nails were a no go and an engineer might be required asap. She informed me that he would probably be chargeable. I attempted the nail manoeuvre one last time. It didn’t work.

assorted utensils (mrscarmichael)
assorted utensils (mrscarmichael)

Then Lauren suggested a coat hanger saying it was her own tool of choice. I told her I thought she was brilliant but that rest assured I’d be straight back on the blower if an un-twisted wire hanger did not do the job.

It did the job.

David and Goliath (mrscarmichael)
how David brought down Goliath (mrscarmichael)

I love my Dyson vacuum cleaner now that’s it’s fit for purpose again. I still adore my Ikea clips. I do not want them dating.

I shall now vacuum the house. After I’ve made some coffee. And taken some photos. And written this.

David, you little bugger (mrscarmichael)
David, you little bugger (mrscarmichael)

I am feeling rather pleased with myself.

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50 thoughts on “Ikea and Dyson, A Perfect Storm

  1. I love those clips, been using them for years. Although mine come from Lakeland πŸ™‚ I shall be sure not to let them get near my hoover – no Dyson here I’m afraid! x

      1. cheap & cheerful from John Lewis a couple of yrs ago- it likes the fruit & veg delivered in small pieces.& does not do citrus! Serving me well on current weight reduction regime – imagination running riot with concoctions! (caution needed with windy beets and kale though)

  2. Hmm, I’ve heard bad things about Dysons. I’m still using a rather ancient but very efficient little vacuum cleaner from the 1970s…. !! Other cleaners were bought by my husband because they were newer, surely better…. But no, this little thing has seen them all off. More than fit for purpose. Apropos your new found clip thingies, I have had those from Lakeland for years….they look just the same. A great little invention.

  3. I have never been to Ikea. I’m worried that if I go in I might never come out, or even worse I might come out with lots of things I’ve lived perfectly well without for the last ….years but needed to buy. The fact that the nearest store is a 2 hour drive away helps too.

    Well done on your self-sufficiency in the appliance repair department.

  4. Mrs C: 1 Dyson: 0! Hurray for perseverance and Lauren and coat hangers! Mr Litlove came home with a Dyson for me when we had not long moved into this house. It was, I am very sorry to say, one of the few spontaneous presents he ever got me. However, on the bright side the machine itself was endorsed by Ranulph Fiennes and even signed by him. What he did with them on Arctic expeditions I shudder to think.

  5. My mother used to call me Maintenance Ms, for my cleverness with repairing things. You are formally invited to join the club.

    Marital bliss: The husband managed to dash both the oven and toaster oven to the floor last week and the damage was beyond the reach of Maintenance Ms. New ones were procured. Husband hung his head in shame. I pretend I am not pleased with the new ones.

      1. No, they’re not. Unless you live in a modern Western style house, ovens and such are counter top. The standard Japanese kitchen is rather stark. There’s a sink, a place to put the fridge and a slot for a two ring gas cooker, but that’s about it.

        Thanks for the vote of confidence. I will do my best. I must admit, but only to you, that I like the new oven. The old one was forced air, a hand-me-down from a friend, and rather loud. The new one whispers.

  6. Good job, Mrs C–on every level πŸ˜€
    Reminds me of the not so clandestine relationship btw Lego blocks and the Oreck. An on again, off again thing until the Legos finally kicked that Oreck to the curb. πŸ˜‰

  7. Ha ha!! Great post there Mrs C. I can but only concur with you on the Dyson / Ikea products. I love those little clips, they are truly a marvel. Can you believe that I tried to introduce them to Mother who said “oh, I can’t get on with those”. What???? What exactly is so difficult about them???
    On the Dyson front, I had to relent and do the old ‘click and collect’ at John Lewis just after Xmas as previous small cheap sucky thing has never in two years picked up one dog hair. That job has been down to me on hands and knees with rubber glove scraping the carpets…ppfff. New Dyson is the most amazing sucky thing ever. Filled the thing up in seconds and realised I had forgotten what colour the bedroom carpet actually is!

    1. laughed at your carpet revelation. I’ve forgotten the colour of mine due to Mr C believing it’s his wardrobe.
      I too love the idea of not being able to get on with clips. Did you have very short hair as a child she ponders????

      1. Ah yes, husbands and the old floor as wardrobe ploy… I hear you.
        No, I always had long hair as a child and am wincing at the memory of Mother yanking said hair into a pony tail with a rubber band, catching those hairs at the base of ones neck. It’s been a difficult relationship ever since ;o)

      2. OMG we’re twins!!!@Β£$%^&*

        The old rubber band/poneytail scenario. Add the bird’s nest of hair under the rubber implement of torture and that was my childhood. Mum had to bribe me to have my hair washed.

  8. Very clever take. You’ve got a great voice. I’m imagining you thinking about the great post you’ll have as you struggle to overcome the madness that IKEA and Dyson wrought. I’ve learned to avoid Ikea as I get lost in its labyrinth, and we are besotted with our Roomba.

    1. Oh Lordy I am being forced to Ikea this afternoon on the way to Daughter #1’s flat in South London. She is not even dressed yet and I am getting twitchy for oh so many reasons one of which is that Mr C is flying to the States at 3.50 and he doesn’t seem to have packed yet – see ‘The (Not So) Secret Life of Mr Carmichael.

      Thank you re the voice compliment.

  9. Oh I’m with you all the way Mrs C… Chuckle, chuckle…Now I consider I’m lucky to have survived my one and only Ikea experience. After almost an hour of wandering around trying to A….find a way out, or B… find an assistant to show us the way out we had gathered a following of other bewildered shoppers going round and round the aisles (surely this is the 3rd time past that red dining room setting!!!) Then we discovered the way out was through the cash register aisles and we had not found any thing to buy….The cafΓ© was a welcome sight….

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